


The Foreskin Harvest

by Mojave Dragonfly (Dragonfly)



Category: Christian Bible (Old Testament), Sefer Shmuel | Book of Samuel, Tanakh
Genre: Gen, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2008, recipient:Roga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:16:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonfly/pseuds/Mojave%20Dragonfly





	The Foreskin Harvest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Roga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roga/gifts).



The Foreskin Harvest

"Your Majesty, I am here to issue a certificate of divorce to your daughter, Merab." They were in Saul's quarters, where the king was spending much of his time, withdrawing incrementally from activities with his army as his malaise grew heavier upon him. With King Saul were General Abner and Saul's son, Jonathan. With David were the king's daughters, Merab and Michal, both veiled.

"With what cause do you set my daughter aside, Son of Jesse?" asked Saul.

David swallowed. "On the grounds that she is promised to another man, Your Majesty."

"This is not true. I have promised her to you."

"She has promised herself, Sir. While I might have the greater claim, I choose to relinquish it."

"She will marry you, if I say she shall."

"Yes, Your Majesty, but I don't want her on those terms."

"You insult my house and my person. You will leave my daughter a divorced woman."

"Insult is by no means my intention, Your Majesty. I wish only for her happiness as I know, you, her father, do. I will issue a certificate of divorce if Your Majesty will permit her to marry again."

"So you will only divorce my daughter with my guarantee that I will allow her to marry another man? And what if I refuse?"

"Then Your Majesty condemns your daughter to the life of a divorced woman, not I. Had I known her heart belonged to another, I would not have engaged myself to your oldest daughter. I could put her aside for adultery, but I wouldn't want to put that mark on your house."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Of course not, Your Majesty. I am your servant, always. I only want to save us both embarrassment. I will put forward whatever version of events you prefer."

At this, Saul raised his eyebrows in surprise. He turned and walked to the window. Then he turned back. "Merab, who is this man you love?"

"Adriel of Meholah, Your Majesty," she said quietly.

Saul snorted. "And have you sinned with him? Tell me the truth. We will let it go no farther than these walls."

"No, Father, there has been no adultery. I will swear it before the Lord."

Saul lifted his chin. "My daughter has not betrayed you, Son of Jesse. You have no cause to divorce her."

"Nonetheless, I shall, Your Majesty. She is not acceptable to me while she loves another man. King Saul," David kneeled and spread his arms, palms up. "You are the wisest man in the kingdom. Can you not advise me in a course that is to everyone's advantage, even your daughter's?"

Saul gave David a sidelong look. "Have you not already decided on a course?"

David's heart hammered. What did Saul know? "I will be guided by my king. I cannot marry a woman who loves another. She will be always tempted to sin if she marries any other man. You cannot have your house disgraced by divorce, and I will lose the honor of an alliance with the king's family." David gave Saul an appealing look. "What shall I do?"

Saul shook his head thoughtfully. "Adriel of Meholah. He is from a good family, Merab, but the alliance gives us no gain."

Merab kept quiet. David felt keenly his own responsibility to salvage the situation. The happiness of at least three people was in his hands and the lives of two. He'd found Merab and Adriel alone with linked hands and intimate looks, though Merab was engaged to him. They could both be put to death if David denounced them. In his fury he'd wanted to denounce them, but Merab's sister Michal had proposed another course.  
Saul glared at David. "There has been no adultery and no tongues wag against you, but still you would put her aside. I know more than you think, David.  
It's Michal you want, isn't it?"

"I - wouldn't presume -"

"Oh, yes you would. You presume much, David the hero. Well, here is my decision. You may divorce Merab, and I will give you Michal for a wife. However," here Saul's eyes took on a gleam. "You are putting her aside because of your own preference for Michal, not for any failing of hers. And so, I am under no obligation to transfer the bride-price you have paid for Merab. I accepted the head of Goliath of Gath for her, you will have to pay again for Michal."

David stood slowly, trying to read Saul. "What is the bride-price, Your Majesty?"

Saul turned to Abner who bent forward to hear him. They spoke together quietly. Jonathan stepped toward them to try to be part of the conference, but Saul's broad back cut him out. He gave David a worried look. He stood with the king, but Jonathan had approved the pact between his beloved friend and Michal, his sister. So much was at stake.

"The bride-price for my daughter, Michal," Saul said, grandly, straightening from his whispered conversation, "will be the foreskins from a hundred Philistines."

David stared at Saul. He looked at Jonathan, who also stared at Saul. He glanced at Abner, and at the two veiled women. Michal tensed, undoubtedly fearing the failure of their plans.

"Foreskins, Your Majesty?" he asked, suddenly loving the challenge, the irony, the sheer horrible-ness of it.

"Foreskins. A hundred." The king's eyes still gleamed in the gloomy room.

"And must they be from dead Philistines, Your Majesty?" David asked, matching the king gleam for gleam. Jonathan heard his eager tone and gave David a horrified look.

"I only require that you count out a hundred foreskins to me. If you can get them from live heathens, you are welcome to try. Do you accept?"

"I do, Your Majesty, with pleasure!"

Jonathan closed his eyes.

* * *

The question of why David was putting aside Merab was lost in the general gossip by the news of the bride-price for Michal. Everyone spoke of it with approval, even David's men on whom the burden of much of the collection of the grisly trophies would fall. It seemed a brilliant choice of task - while there would be only the bridegroom's word that the foreskins belonged to Philistines, there were no races from among the enemies of the Israelites who were circumcised, and all their allies - the men of Judah and the other Hebrews - were. So a hundred foreskins had to belong to some enemy. But, a hundred, cried the ladies. So many. How could a man win that many battles? Yet, even in their romantic worries few of the women saw the assignment as a deliberate attempt to get David killed. It seemed a right and proper heroic test for their beloved hero.

And so did David see it. He couldn't wait to get started. He explained the situation to his men and offered them the chance to switch units. No one did. By now they all had faith in their fey, red-haired leader. David spoke to Abner to formally request that his unit have priority in the assignment of missions. Abner agreed.

"You're playing right into his hands," Jonathan said, shaking his head in resignation.

David grinned. "I know. But right now, as far as I can tell, killing Philistines is what the Lord wants me to do. If I die, I die happy."

Jonathan grinned back at him. "You'll do it. Somehow, you'll do it. Do you know, my own men are planning to circumcise any corpses they can for you. Most of the army is probably ready with their circumcision knives on your behalf."

Pleased, David returned to his men. Jonathan's words had given him a thought. The next day, as part of the training, he required all his men to spend time sharpening their daggers. Actual circumcision knives were not in great supply in the army, to say the least. It would take a very sharp dagger to do the job properly. And the Philistines often removed their dead from the field, so the trophies would need to be taken swiftly. He briefed his men on all this as they sharpened, amid much double-meaninged word play and laughter. Nothing in fact had fired up his men as much as this grisly challenge before them, and, as Jonathan had said, the whole army was enamored of the task.

"Abner," David asked the general, "was this your idea?"

Abner eyed him before answering. "Why do you ask?"

"I meant to praise you. This was brilliant. Look at them. Sharpening their daggers like predatory priests. They can't wait to start cutting up a corpse."

Abner relaxed. "The credit is the king's, of course," he said.

"I hope he's happy with the results," David said, looking the man straight in the eye.

Abner didn't even look abashed as he said, "I'm sure he will be." Then he did seem to relent. "Best of luck to you."

"Thank you," David replied with a wolfish grin.

* * *

And so it began. David and his men grew adept at the task of removing any Philistine armor in the groin area and efficiently slicing free a man's foreskin. David sought every chance he could get to attack Philistine camps, scouting parties, and military caravans. He made himself listen to his lieutenant, Joab, if Joab deemed an enterprise too risky for his men, because he didn't want to pay for this bride-price in needlessly lost lives and he didn't trust his own judgment, in his zeal. He lost men, and he grieved for every one, usually burying them with his own hands, but by scrupulously following Joab's advice, he managed to not feel he had personally caused their deaths. The more outrageous risks he took himself, and he only barely escaped with his life on more than one occasion.

After one such occasion, Joab said, "David, you are being careless with your own safety. There are plenty of Philistines in our land. Are you in such a hurry to be wed?"

"Joab," David said with a sigh. "I am an abstainer. It's how we are raised in Judah. Have you not seen how seldom the men from Judah visit the camp followers? We believe it makes a man pure in the sight of the Lord, particularly for battle."

"King Saul believes this also," Joab said.

"But unlike King Saul, I have never had a wife. And I love Michal as I never did Merab. I am a thirsty man in the desert, with an oasis on the horizon."

Joab smiled one of his rare smiles at this confidence. "I just don't want it to get you killed."

"Joab, you are no poet. You should at least say, 'Take care that while you are looking towards the oasis, a scorpion does not sting you to death.' You see? That would continue the poetic image."

"I leave the songwriting to you," Joab replied. "Consider how your death would demoralize your men. Many men."

"Well, it would do wonders for the king's morale, and that's what's really important, right?" David clapped Joab on the shoulder and moved off.

"Captain," Joab called after him. David paused and looked back. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

Joab said nothing. Concerned, David returned to him. In a low voice, Joab asked, "Is the king trying to get you killed?"

David pressed his lips together. "Don't speak against the king like that, Joab. You know better."

"I need to know if it is true. I thought you trusted me. Will Abner place our men in danger in battle? Will he give our captured weapons and armor to other units before ours?"

David was uncomfortable. "All battles are dangerous, Joab, you know that. Someone has to be in the position of most risk. Sometimes it will be us. And if spoils are not issued equally, the men will talk, and Abner wouldn't want that."

"You don't trust me," Joab said.

David paused, chastened. He had never seen Joab hurt before. "I do trust you. I just - Of course I trust you. But who am I to say what is in the king's heart? It could be treasonous."

"Then you do think it's true."

"You mustn't speak of it to anyone, or say that I thought it was so."

"In return, you must tell me when there is something like this. Something that could endanger you or the men. You can trust me."

"I will, Joab, I promise."

* * *

  
The foreskin harvest, as the army called it, grew. David kept them in a goatskin bag he carried around his neck and tucked inside his tunic. After every skirmish or battle, he would hold open the bag as his men brought him trophies and dropped them in it. If the day had gone well for them, the men would pull faces and complain about how the bag smelled. If they were submitting their trophies on the run, or in the face of injuries and loss, they would hand them over wordlessly.

Saul had named a date for the engagement ceremony where the bride-price must be presented, so David was in a hurry for that reason as well. In return for accepting an early engagement, he had required a swift wedding, rather than another year of betrothal. He was a thirsty man in a desert, after all. Saul had agreed.

David's collection was only at seventy-six foreskins on the night before the scheduled engagement ritual. Saul's courtiers had politely asked him if they should continue with plans for the celebration or not. His heart sinking, he had told them yes, they should go ahead. But he didn't have the required price.

Jonathan had promised that his men would harvest foreskins on his behalf from any action they saw, but most of the missions had been David's. Still, David headed for Jonathan's quarters, praying that somehow Jonathan's unit might have killed twenty-four Philistines whose corpses might have stayed available long enough. But he knew how little action Saul had sent Jonathan on.

He knocked and was bidden enter. He came into a room filled with all the other army captains.

"David," Jonathan cried. The others, too, looked surprised to see him, but also pleased. They all gathered around him and congratulated him on his forthcoming nuptials.

"Thank you," David said when he reached Jonathan and the din had subsided, "but I am short on the bride price. I have come to my friends to see if I may borrow money."

Jonathan was holding a bag. "How many do you need?" he asked.

"How many do you have?" David replied. "I will thank you for every one you took on my behalf, whether it satisfies the king or not."

He didn't think Jonathan would accept this side-step, but he did, with a smothered smile. "Well, David, on only one sortie, I and my men took six Philistine foreskins for you." He smiled proudly, and David's heart sank further, but he put on a smile, and held out his bag. Jonathan counted each darkened piece into David's bag.

"I thank you from my heart," David said. Now, to find a way to tell them it wasn't enough.

Jonathan's brother Abinadab came forward, also with a bag in his hand, and David knew hope again. "I won't say how many sorties it took," he said with a grin, "but my men have collected nine for you."

"Thank you," David breathed, as Abinadab counted them into his bag. Was there anyone else?

"And I," said Melchishua, who took his brother's place, "have seven." David was adding hastily. Two more, two more. He could go find two men to slay this very night if he had to.

The next man's four foreskins put David over the needed hundred, but he stopped himself from crowing when he saw that every man in the room had a bag in his hand. He couldn't slow the grin that spread over his face as he held the bag open for every captain in the army, but he thanked them each for every foreskin. His heart pounding with joy, he completely lost the count.

"How many?" they all demanded when they were done. "How many are there?"

David leaped up onto a table and held out the bag in the same way he had held Goliath's head by the hair as he led the villagers of Beth-Lahama against their Philistine magistrates.

"My friends," he cried. "I thank you all. You have not only bought for me a bride, you have served the Lord in the way we all know best. By destroying His enemies!"

Everyone cheered. "Not only have you killed them, you've converted them to Hebrews after death!" Laughter roared around the room. "How many? How many?" they began to chant.

David tucked the bag away. "There are more here than a hundred. If you want to know how many, you'll have to come to the ceremony tomorrow!"

Amid the laughter and cheers, David jumped to the floor. When he had a moment, he drew Jonathan aside. "I need to go soon. I want to tell Michal before she goes to bed."

Jonathan waggled his eyebrows. "She's in the room beyond that curtain. I think she knows."

David's jaw dropped. "Jonathan! She shouldn't be here. Listen to all these foreskin jokes."

Jonathan grinned at him. "Do you know the woman you're marrying, David? She started all the foreskin jokes you've been hearing. Most of them came from her and the family quarters. Go talk to her."

* * *

The next day all of Saul's court turned out to see David pay the bride-price for Michal. Except for the crowds of people in the courtyard, the ceremony was like the earlier one, for Merab. King Saul asked ritually to see the bride-price and David came forward with his bag. He removed it from around his neck and held it up so the admiring crowd could see it. When he took out the first foreskin, he held it, too, up to the acclaim of the crowd. Then he placed it on the table between himself and the king and counted, "One."

Before long, all the gathered guests were counting with him. They gave a great cheer when he reached a hundred, but David smiled and kept going. King Saul's countenance, usually neutral when he looked at David, slowly darkened. The last foreskin in the bag numbered exactly two hundred. David had double the required bride-price. Saul's attendant gathered them up, placed them in a wooden box, and presented the box to the king. Saul agreed that the price had been paid and David might now marry his younger daughter. Then he departed, abruptly.

The crowd took only a moment to react to the king's rudeness, but then out came the musical instruments and the dancing began. Michal, who should have been required to retire earlier in the ceremony, removed her veil and stayed for the festivities. David placed her at his side. They danced with the others at first, but then David settled in with his lyre to sing and play, Michal seated beside him as if the court were theirs. Merab attended her sister, and hovering behind her, David often glimpsed Adriel. He caught the scribe's gaze in a friendly way, and the man ventured forward. David stopped singing as Adriel drew near.

"Congratulations, David," Adriel said with a slight bow. "I wish you happiness. And I wanted to thank you."

Feeling magnanimous, David said, "I wish you happiness as well, Adriel. Have you received any favor from the king?" He glanced toward Merab.

"I haven't asked for any yet," Adriel said. "Still waiting for the right time."

"Well, perhaps I can put in a good word for you."

"Oh, please don't trouble yourself," Adriel said, nodded his head at Michal, and retreated, Merab moving away with him.

Michal snickered.

"What?" David asked.

"People may want your favor, David," she said, "but they don't want you to speak to the king for them."

"Well, perhaps not." David returned to playing his lyre, but he was troubled. How nice it would be to have everything about his life, but also the favor of his king. To not have to worry that anything he said or did might excite his sovereign's jealousy. Tonight he seemed so close to complete happiness.

"Michal, you know I have never meant your father any harm or disrespect," he said, switching the music beneath his fingers to a melancholy air.

Michal looked at him. She seemed to be thinking about what to say.

"You believe that, don't you?"

"I thought you said you weren't going to drink at this engagement celebration," she said.

David frowned. "I'm not drinking. The father of the woman I love distrusts and hates me when I mean him only honor."

Michal said, "You may believe you mean him only honor, David, but you are who you are."

"And who am I? A shepherd from Judah who is about to marry a beautiful princess." He took her hand and kissed it, the only part of her he was allowed to kiss in public.

"You are the best warrior our people have ever seen. You manage to be friends with everyone, making no enemies, except for those who are jealous. Anything you try comes easily to your hand. You are beautiful and smart and your men would follow you anywhere."

Who needed wine? David couldn't think of a time he had glowed with more warmth. Unless it was when Samuel had - he stopped that thought.

Michal went on. "You are everything a king should be. My father fears he holds his throne now only by your generosity."

"What?" David stopped playing.

Michal shrugged. "It's what he thinks."

"That's ridiculous." He stood and set down the lyre. "Michal, why does he never speak to me about these things? I could tell him not to fear me. If he won't speak to me, I will go to him. I'll go right now and tell him he is my king and my father-in-law, and I am his loyal subject."

"No!" Michal grabbed his arm. "No, David, no. You've sworn oaths of loyalty to him before, and that's never helped."

"Not like this, I haven't."

"What are you going to say? 'Your daughter tells me you're afraid of me?' You can't do that."

"Why not? Why does everything have to be so secret? I'll tell him I've heard this thing, and I want him to know it isn't true."

"What isn't true? It's not true that you are loved more by his people than he is? It's not true that you are the best warrior we've ever had? What isn't true? You see what I mean? You are who you are."

"It isn't true that I want his throne. I'll tell him that."

Michal's expression changed from pleading to something else, something serious and distant. "But isn't it true?" she asked in a lower tone.

 _What?_ David faltered.

"You'll be lying to him. And he can smell a lie. Then you are a dead man and I am already a widow."

"It's not a lie . . ." But Michal thought it was. Thought that David wanted to be king. And, after all, Samuel had . . .

Unable to think clearly, David stood and left the courtyard without another word. He reached the back of the complex, alone, and looked out at the starry sky. _Lord, what is it you want me to do?_ he prayed.

He remembered so clearly that magical night when his people's greatest spiritual leader had anointed him a king, giving him no instructions, no orders. He'd been gifted with a destiny but left to follow it on his own. Had he squandered the gift? Had he rejected it? Surely not. He couldn't very well walk in to the court at Gibeah and demand to be given the throne. He hadn't had any power to take it.

But now he did. Now - he allowed his thoughts to form around the necessary steps to a rebellion. How hard would it be? His own men would follow him. If he proved the plan to be sound, even Joab would endorse it. With a few well-made speeches, he might convince half the army. Abner was an unknown factor, but if he got Abner's support he would be invincible. How far away was Ramah, where Samuel's home was? Samuel's appearance, at just the right moment, to confirm David's anointing, would be seen as a powerful omen. He would have Saul's daughter as a wife. Would Michal support him? She might, and even if he had to send her away, their marriage still allowed him to claim to be a son of Saul. Of course, Saul had other sons . . .

"David?" said a quiet voice behind him. There was Jonathan, leaning against the clay brick building.

"Jonathan." David turned and looked at the man, his heart full. "Jonathan, I'm sorry."

"What, for leaving your own party?"

"No, nothing. Nothing. Let's go back." David put his arm around Jonathan's shoulders.

"Are you drunk?"

"Never more sober."

 _I won't do it,_ David prayed fiercely. _So you don't like Saul anymore? That's no reason not to give Jonathan a chance. It's not fair. I won't be your king until you give him his chance. I won't do it._

But the Lord had other plans.

  



End file.
